


Bet

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Skirts [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crossdressing, I Tried, Lost a Bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Q and Eve lose a bet.





	

“The bet is… if you lose, you have to exchange clothes!”

“DEAL!” Moneypenny roared, and downed the last of her ale.

“No, not deal!” Q snapped, shoving away his glass of cider. “I refuse!”

“Too late, too late!” R cackled. “It’s written on the blackboard, you can’t back out now!”

Q growled deep in his throat, but everyone just laughed at how cute he looked when he was angry. He shot a glare at Moneypenny, his partner for the night. She looked beautiful as ever in a red dress that hugged and accentuated her curves; Q thought of himself trying to squeeze into it, and blanched.

“Awww, come on, Q, it’ll be fun!” she laughed, “And anyway, you’ll win, I know you will! You’re the best here!”

Q grumbled nervously for form’s sake. But Moneypenny was right, he was the best. So he’d give it a go. What could go wrong?

~

“I hate you.”

“It’s not my fault,” Moneypenny protested as she zipped up the cardigan. “Besides, you actually look kind of pretty.”

Q stared dismally at himself in the mirror. Moneypenny’s dress looked horrible on him. To be crude, he did not have the assets to fill it. It lost its shape and hung awkwardly off his shoulders, the waist at the wrong place, the back open and cold. He felt sick. Not necessarily because he was in a dress; it was because he was in _Eve’s_ dress, and it looked _terrible_. Maybe if it had been made to fit him, he wouldn’t feel so guilty.

Maybe his personal style screamed “frumpy old man”, but it was a carefully cultivated aesthetic. Q _did_ care about his appearance, quite a lot, and to be anything other than well put together…

“Q. Darling.” Moneypenny came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. “It’s not that bad. If you don’t want anyone to see, that’s fine. But it’s really not as horrible as you think.” She tilted her head to look at him, and he turned his to meet her gaze, and then he bit his lip, hard—

But the tears came anyway. Moneypenny turned him and wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair, murmuring soothingly. Q hugged back, burying his face in her shoulder. Christ, why was it so bad?! Why—

[ _“Boys don’t wear dresses!”_ ]

[ _“But mum--!”_ ]

[ _“Take that off this moment, young man!”_ ]

—would it still hurt like this?

“Take that off, love,” Moneypenny murmured. “I’ll go out and show that we’ve done it, and you can take it off. It’s alright, Q. It really is alright.”

“Boys don’t wear dresses,” he mumbled into her shoulder. She snorted contemptuously.

“Who told you _that_ bit of twaddle? Boys and men wear dresses all the time. Did you know, Bond had to go undercover as a transvestite once? He pulled it off, surprisingly. Then again, he is James Bond.”

Bond in a dress? The image made Q snort, and Moneypenny chuckled. “I know,” she replied cheerfully, as if he’d spoken aloud, “It was quite a sight. There’s pictures, too, in the archive. Feather boa and everything.”

Q snorted again, and chuckled weakly. “Does he know about the pictures?” he asked in a mumble.

“Ohhh, yes,” Moneypenny chuckled evilly. “And he has tried _everything_ to have them destroyed. It’s not that he has anything against transvestites, at least, I don’t think he does; it’s more that he’d rather not deal with people attempting to use them as blackmail or similar. Come on, off it goes.”

She helped him out of the dress, then left him in his pants in the bathroom while she skipped out and showed off that she was, indeed, capable of turning “frumpy old man” into “classic and unique”. Q pressed his ear to the door and heard someone demand that Q come out in the dress. Moneypenny’s gleeful tone turned sharp as she told them to fuck off, he didn’t owe anyone a showing. But he lost the bet, someone cried. And he’d done the bet, Moneypenny retorted, but no one had said they _both_ had to “prove” that they’d done it.

Q mentally promised that, if he did make that exploding pen, Moneypenny was getting the first one.

But while everyone argued, Q wandered back to where they’d left the dress, folded neatly on the counter, and unfolded it carefully, hands shaking just a little.

~

There were pictures taken, of course, of Moneypenny in Q’s clothes. She even posed for them. One of the Q-branch minions did a drawing of Q in Moneypenny’s dress, but no one knew what he’d _really_ looked like.

And no one knew what he looked like when Moneypenny took him to get his first dress-fitting, either. But no one needed to know it had ever happened. It wasn’t in the bet, you see.


End file.
